


karkalicious is a davekat song

by yikeswhatshappenin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Earth C (Homestuck), Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, after caliborn's masterpiece, and have a karkalicious monday lgbts, anyway roxy is the god of fortnite, but just let me have this hussie, hopefully the epilogue will clear things up a bit, or whatever trainwreck that shit was, they say the fuck word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17143943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikeswhatshappenin/pseuds/yikeswhatshappenin
Summary: Dave returns to Earth C after the beta kids' long absence.we stan a broadway homestuck





	karkalicious is a davekat song

Dave soared through the sky, feeling each cell in his body touch and breathe and multiply. He felt the gentle hands of the wind brush his face and hair and frisk across his cape. He felt his blood move through his veins, each capillary expanding and refilling timed with the beat of his heart. He felt his eyelashes brush his cheeks when he blinked and the soft fabric of his shirt turn over in his hands when he touched it. He was born anew.

Sunshine weaved kindly between the acrylic splotches of white and gray that threatened to send down fat droplets of rain. But Dave would have welcomed even the tears staining his face and tunic. Indeed he had, when, after the four of them had touched the victory platform, an eternity behind them, he’d rejoiced with John, swung Jade around in his arms, and hugged his sister. He knew there were tear tracks running down his face and he almost, but not quite, didn’t care. Seeing and feeling and  _ being  _ again after god knows how long was too exhilarating. 

He closed his eyes. The sun burned a searing white disk into his retinas even from behind his shades. For a moment he hovered, fifty feet in the air, the only movement being the rise and fall of his chest and the breeze ruffling his hair. Then, he let go abruptly, dropping like an anchor and twisting limply in midair like a marionette with cut strings, falling, falling, until he was less than ten feet from the grass. He pulled up in a graceful arc, laughing, relishing every iota of the thrill that electrified every nerve. Again he ascended, and again he came down. 

After some rounds of this, Dave remembered the object of his journey, and turned his face towards the viridian blades of dewey grass that lined the hillside, atop which lie his destination. No longer a joyfully aimless wanderer, he somberly reasserted his path, now offset slightly by the dips and dives that had taken him closer to the city than was his goal. He pushed his mind forward, and his body followed, though with the faintest hint of reluctance. 

He filled his lungs once more. He’d never again take for granted the sheer ability to take a breath of fresh air. Or having lungs in the first place, for that matter. The... _ thing  _ he’d been a component of hadn’t afforded that to him. It had been white, black, blazing, glacial, eternal, never-lasting… it was everything and nothing all at once. Time had utterly lost meaning. There was no consciousness, no way to hear oneself think, no way to even comprehend concepts like space or hatred or joy. It was mind-numbingly boring or hopelessly overwhelming, whichever made one long for death more. Dave was grateful, so unimaginably thankful, that it was over.

But as he rose up the hill, occasionally sinking close enough to it to press off with one foot and do a backflip, the now pressing anxiety deep in his gut only grew. Dave rubbed at his mouth, realizing that effervescent grin he’d been wearing since he got out was fading fast, leaving his face blank and sore. He felt ridiculous. Why wasn’t he happy right now? This should be on the top ten list of happiest moments of his life. Rose wasn’t having this problem, he knew. Neither was Jade. They were probably off galavanting with Kanaya and Davepeta at that very moment. Meanwhile, he…

He had no idea how long it’d been. Any number of things could have happened while he’d been gone for… months? Years? Decades? He shivered, feeling almost sick to his stomach. Had he already been evicted from his own life, which was now forever out of reach? All he wanted was to crawl into his own bed without finding a stranger there. Or, his mind supplied darkly, perhaps there’s nothing at the top of the hill. Perhaps it was only a passing fantasy of idyllic happiness for a sorry soul like him, a mirage that’s long dissipated into the desert sun. He pressed the thought into his brain like a red-hot iron brand, hoping that the preliminary impression would soften the blow when reality confirmed it. 

The hill at last failed to give way to more grass and rounded off before Dave was ready to see what lie at its summit. He warily brought his eyes to the familiar cylindrical towers and geometrically-patterned windows, inspired by both Can Townian and Alternian architecture. To his relief, the house seemed to be in neither disrepair nor foreign occupation, with signs of life visible on every front. The windchime Kanaya had given him one Secret Sufferer hung on a balcony, its tinkling melody carried by a gust of wind. Terezi’s bright red graffiti graphically depicting various sex acts between Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff remained unwashed because Dave had found it hilarious. Dirk’s ironic gift of a giant inflatable Princess Celestia was also discernible amidst the chaos under the open garage door. Finally, and most delightlingly, Dave could clearly see the creepy little Zazzerpan gargoyle Roxy had gotten custom-made for him staring accusingly from the kitchen window. It could be illusory, but his life seemed preserved from this angle, like it had simply waited patiently for his return. 

Dave tentatively lowered himself to the ground. Those delicate sunbeams that had pulled him from the earth not long before now bore into his back, making him feel stuffy under his cape and overshirt. The nervousness, though mitigated, had not left him. He didn’t want to deal with it. He longed to escape from the mid-morning heat and just rush into his house, his home, that was not grand or magnificent or fit for kings but it was fit for  _ him,  _ it was  _ his  _ and it would always be, as long as he was welcome. He decided to just go crash on the couch and deal with whatever consequences later. Resigned, he began marching across the lawn, only pausing to glance furtively at the garden to the left of the front door. 

And that’s precisely when he saw him.

He was turned away from Dave, patting a spade over a little mound of soil covering yet another alchemized pumpkin seed or baby’s breath or catmint. Dave stopped himself from sucking in a breath. He watched him stand and pick up the watering can, showering the seedlings in dew and coloring the dirt a rich brown. His sunhat was still too big, obscuring his head save for the hint of jet-black curls peeking from underneath the brim and the little orange horns visible in the holes in the crown. Dave’s heart swelled with affection as he took in the scene, so quaint and simple and blessedly familiar. 

He wondered if he couldn’t sneak through the forest of flowers and melon sprouts and tap him on the shoulder, taking him completely by surprise. The decently mischievous part of him decided it was as good a plan as any. But alas, before he could manage even two steps, sensitive troll ears twitched at the crunch of dirt under his feet.

“Who’s there?!” The voice broke through Dave’s senses, grounding him in reality. Before he could make any other sound, Karkat had already turned, locking his eyes onto Dave, who couldn’t help his sheepish smile. The watering can was dropped, forgotten, the water inside overwatering the nearest rosebush. Under the shade of his hat, Dave could still see the deep gray skin dusted with charcoal freckles and wine-red eyes drinking him in, awe-filled, as if the sight before him was nothing short of a miracle. He needed, then, to run a hand through those thick black curls and press a kiss to Karkat’s lips, to prove that he was real and that everything would be alright. Unsure if he was, in fact, still welcome to do that, he settled on putting on a pretense of nonchalance and casually sauntering up to Karkat, who was frozen in place save for his eyes, which were following Dave’s movement.

He stopped, close enough now to smell the rainy, earthlike scents of the garden that clung to his gloves and sweater, mixed in with the undefinable but distinct smell that was just  _ Karkat _ . He’d had his worries about the reception he might receive upon his return after an indeterminate amount of time, but he hadn’t anticipated complete, shocked silence. One reason Dave always felt so comfortable around Karkat was the way he always loudly broadcasted whatever he was feeling to any unfortunate soul in range, leaving no room for Dave to have to discern or fret over what he could possibly mean. But now he wasn’t getting anything. Was he angry? Fearful? Happy? He couldn’t read the myriad of emotions that flitted across Karkat’s face. He opened his mouth to say something stupid like “Hi” or—

Before he could get a word out, Dave felt sturdy arms wrap around his own, pulling him into a tight embrace. So much for being replaced, forgotten, or unwelcome, then, he supposed. He relaxed, finally, sinking into Karkat’s soft warmth and gently placing his arms around his back and sneaking a hand into his dark hair. For a moment they both stood there, Dave gazing over his shoulder at the rolling silver clouds that were sure to bring pearly drops of rain, feeling his lungs collapse slightly as he was held so secure. He ran his fingers over Karkat’s scalp as his shoulders trembled, feeling rosewater tears wet his sleeve. He didn’t think he imagined the muffled sob of  _ “Dave”  _ that was whispered into his shirt, or the mist that pricked at the corners of his own eyes in empathy.

“Vacation was great, thanks for asking,” he snarked, relishing the outraged look on Karkat’s face and laughing at the hard sock he received on the arm in response. They gradually settled back into an easy silence, Karkat absently wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. 

He cleared his throat. “When Dirk told us about what happened, we all just kind of assumed… we thought you’d never come back.” Dave nodded, gut twisting at the shakiness of Karkat’s voice. “I don’t understand... how are you here right now? When—” He cut himself off. “This can’t be happening. I’m dreaming.” He slipped out of Dave’s grasp, slowly sinking to his knees, covering his eyes with both hands. “You’re not real and I’m dreaming.” 

Now more than ever, he was pressed with a need to know. “How long has it been?”  
“A… about a sweep, now.” Dave’s heart crumpled in pain and sympathy. 

He looked down at Karkat, frowning, at a momentary loss for how to console him. After a moment’s deliberation, he came to a rest on the ground in front of Karkat, drawing his hands along his arms until he was pulling Karkat’s hands away from his face. He lifted the hat away and stared into his red irises flaked with golden specks, into the trails of pink gracing his cheeks. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” he said, not able to keep the smile from his voice, “but you’re not. Dreaming, that is.” He cupped Karkat’s face in his right hand and touched their lips together, hoping to leave the inalienable impression that the sensation was not one that the mind could ever hope to fabricate. Karkat seemed to accept it, bringing a hand behind Dave’s neck and pushing the two of them even deeper into the kiss. Dave willingly leaned into him and gladly held the reward he’d waited an eternity for. 

They only broke away from one another when their attention was drawn to the rustling and conspicuous snickering in the shrubs further in the garden. Without warning, music came blasting from the direction of the noise, sounding as if it had been amplified to the maximum five times over. Dave and Karkat, bewildered, were in a rush to cover their ears. 

_ If you ever leave/ Baby you would take away/ Everything good in my life _

John burst triumphantly from the bushes, lifting an enormous boombox with all his mighty strength, screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs. He was soon to be followed by Roxy, who was doubling over in hysterical laughter, Jane, in full detective gear, Jade, grinning from ear to ear, and Dirk, who offered a stoical thumbs-up. 

“AND TELL ME NOW!” John led them all into the chorus and Dave facepalmed, ready for Karkat to start fuming about getting tinnitus or something. He chuckled, thinking about all of them hiding there patiently for the moment he and Karkat reunited. He wrapped an arm around Karkat in a side-hug and joined in, much to his annoyance.

“HOW DO I LIVE WITHOUT YOU?!” yelled John. 

They all chimed in.  _ “I WANNA KNOW!” _

“HOW DO I BREATHE WITHOUT YOU?!”  
_“IF YOU EVER GO-O-O!!”_

“HOW DO I EVER, EVER SURVIVE?!”

So they continued until Karkat’s grumbling graduated into full-on shouting. “TURN THE FUCKING MUSIC OFF, JOHN, MY EARS ARE FUCKING BLEEDING!” He elevated his voice beyond the deafening noise. John, content with the success of the prank, attempted to obey, but found himself being hassled by Roxy, who was trying to take control of the stereo he was holding. Dave followed Karkat as he stomped over to the area of the commotion, probably to try and chuck the offending sound system off a cliff or something. 

Unfortunately for the lot of them, Roxy was more tenacious than John was prepared for, and, giggling, managed to hit the  _ skip _ button and immediately started headbanging. 

“FOUR, THREE, TWO, FUCK YOU.” Dave was caught between laughing and crying as Roxy Orange Justice’d her way to the beat of the embarrassing Fergalicious parody he and Karkat had made as teenagers. He watched Dirk tackle John to the ground, sabotaging his efforts to regain control of his boombox in the least heterosexual manner possible. Jane and Jade seemed nothing short of totally confused, but were amused nonetheless. Karkat, however, was a being of pure wrath, charging Roxy and waving his arms around like an angry crab at a rave, as if he had any chance of stopping her. 

At last, the first verse of “Karkalicious” filled the air, even louder than “How Do I Live” had been. As he was surrounded by friends and family in various states of utter chaos, Dave reflected that this was the happiest reunion he could ever have imagined. 

**Author's Note:**

> as of this work being published, karkalicious is exactly 7 years old, perfect age to start saying slurs. i wish y'all a happy holidays on the anniversary of the existence of the best fucking thing to come out of this godforsaken fandom and indeed, all of art. also, gay rights.


End file.
